


Gargoyle Cultural Phenomena

by norcumi



Category: Gargoyles (TV)
Genre: Crack, Explicit Language, F/M, GFY, Gen, Inside jokes, basically it's all one long run of inside jokes, because I will never get over that ship, guest mention of Atlantis' Joshua Sweet, mostly OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: An offshoot from memory lane: The Connecticut clan, 20 odd years down the road.Given the folks involved, they're still VERY odd.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lynati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynati/gifts).



> So. Ah. Lynati finally got me to write more of my Gargoyles stuff, though let's be blunt here: that was 15+ years ago. I cannot in good conscience rec any of my hella early stuff, because _I_ can't read it without cringing and wondering what the bloody HELLS I was thinking. Nonetheless, I still have a fondness for that universe and my mass of crazed OCs. 
> 
> So this is a gift to Lynati, chock filled with inside references and not-so-sly-nudges to her about things between us as friends. It's available here for those that want to dive into the madness, and if for some bewildering reason you want to know more, [here](http://norcumi.gargles-fans.org/garg/index.html) is the link to my ancient (and weirdly broken) website. The fic there REALLY isn't good, well marked, nor culturally sensitive. Please consider this due warning. 
> 
> As for Lynati: I hope it was worth the wait. <3

DISCLAIMER: All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company (as does Doctor Joshua Strongbear Sweet). Jim, Blair, Simon, and Carolyn belong to Pet Fly productions. [Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcaahXupVC0) is by Fall Out Boy, and used most respectfully. Hamilton I think belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda. There are probably other things that are owned by other people mentioned, but I’ve lost track by now. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original stories, characters, and ideas are Norcumi’s, as brought to you by the ever glorious Lynati. Encouragement and editing has kindly been provided by Dogmatix, with great patience and support.

* * *

Previously, on this strange version of Gargoyles:

[clip of Katherine going up to the Magus. “Y’turned them to stone...forever?”]

[typical shot of the Xanatos helicopter swooping up to the Eyrie Building, the gargoyles waking up]

[typical shot of Elisa falling off the Eyrie Building, followed by The Kiss from Hunter’s Moon 3]

[bad home video taken with a cheap camcorder: Tate, a green gargoyle with messy hair leading a stumbling, teen blue gargoyle around a multi-story house surrounded by woods. She’s got a shaved head and moves like she has no idea what to do with the wings and tail]

[more bad home video showing a small cluster of eggs hatching, cheesy graduation ceremonies (high school and then higher education) of Jay and then Tate]

[press room clips of David Xanatos presenting gargoyles to public figures. Tate is near the forefront, often eagerly engaging with various parties]

[several stills of famous industry mogul Dominique Destine cutting ribbons and accepting awards. Jay, in human form, is always in the background. In one of those shots, Destine has a date she is visibly protective of. The tall, bald black man seems very amused by that.]

[professionally filmed clips of a small wedding. The sign indicates it is between Captains Simon Banks and Maria Chavez. From the number of gargoyles in the audience, it’s at night. Best men Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg keep giving various sections of the audience looks to keep them in line]

[YouTube video of a middling sized concert. On stage is a young purple gargoyle with messy hair, a manic grin, and an impressive voice. His shirt comes with a silkscreened “Hello, my name is Frank” tag. A lot of the audience wears the same, and the merchandise booth is selling those by the dozen along with several CDs]

* * *

**October, 2016**

The obnoxiously cheerful beep that meant ‘incoming helicopter’ started going off near Silicon’s elbow. A quick check told him it was the Xanatos Special, and a little smack killed the mechanical shrieking. Silicon rolled his eyes and made a mental note to dig through Lex’s software to make the noise less irritating – same as he always did – ignoring that the software was more his than Lex’s – also same as he always did. A little bit later, Tate came in via a window, tossing his ratty leather backpack into a spare corner.

“Have I mentioned the UN are a batch of spineless tools?” Tate asked, checking a chair for occupants, then flopping down onto a different one that had less electronic bits on it. “The UN are a batch of spineless tools.”

Silicon coughed and ran a hand over his head. “You do realize that includes you now, right?

Tate waved a blithe, indifferent hand. “Yeah, but you knew that years ago.”

The Xanatos private copter buzzed the window – from a _safe_ distance, this time – and Silicon sighed. “Alex or Fox?”

“Alex, thank gods.” Tate slumped back, letting his wings hang loose behind him and tilting his head back. “Fox takes gargoyle passengers as a challenge. I think she’s only done the ‘Sorry-but-not-sorry for the turbulence’ thing bad enough to make me puke the once, though.”

Silicon wrinkled his nose. Copters didn’t tend to be capable of that sort of thing, so it was more likely that she’d been testing some sort of prototype. He just shook his head, leaning back in his own chair. He winced as he sat properly upright for the first time in what he suspected more hours than was good for him, and he let out a quiet grunt as he stretched out his mangled foot. He’d gotten on the wrong end of some redneck Quarry-jerks back in the day, and while he’d gotten used to missing more of his right foot than not, it still could be a literal pain. 

Tate looked tired. Silicon suspected that someone was abusing his half-human heritage, and spending more days looking fully human just to get more work done, instead of sleeping. Even if it was ‘just’ good-will efforts, and making gargoyles seem personable and ‘human’ and doing all the stupid grunt work to make them more accessible to humanity, that was a big job. Silicon didn’t envy his brother, not after his own one and only ever TV interview. Brian Williams had been amiable enough, but all the cameras and lights and _people_ had been terrifying. Tate did regular interviews and somehow kept his standard level of insane. Silicon had no idea how he did that. 

Tate was in casual dressy mode, with dark slacks and a button-down shirt that was a shade of green far lighter than his skin. He wore his hair longer than it used to be, tied back in a ponytail that he still hadn’t seemed to realize he’d copied off of Xanatos senior.

Xanatos junior had a lot of Bitcoin riding on the theory that Tate really was oblivious, but Silicon had stood by his brother and the theory he was punking them all. Lex, the traitor, was with Alex, and every time Silicon complained about the bet, Lex pointed out it was only Bitcoin. Silicon inevitably kvetched about wanting real money for his efforts, and then Alex would offer monopoly money as a better alternative, since the paper it was printed on had some value.

Alex, like his father, would never not be an asshole. If Silicon didn’t have ridiculous hours of security footage of Hamilton based blackmail, he’d be honestly grumpy with the jerk.

After a while, Tate sighed. He didn’t open his eyes, but he shrugged. “So I’m home for a week. What joys do I have to look forward to?”

“Mostly things gearing up for Thanksgiving. Everyone’s trying to get home for it this year.”

“Yeaaah, Nicole sends her love and a shoulder punch we’re going to pretend I gave you, and I think Lex is bringing everyone.”

Urgh. Meal in the house extension, then. “That reminds me. I still have to e-mail out invites – ” Tate lifted his head enough to give Silicon the evil eye, and he shrugged right back. “Because yes Mector is still e-mail phobic and Talia doesn’t want to deal with Leader’s correspondence too.”

Tate dropped his head back with a faint mutter of “poor bastard,” which Silicon also ignored. He got all the juicy gossip that way, so he didn’t complain. He really hadn’t set up that ‘reply all’ snafu, and since Mector used to try to wrangle him into the job as secretary anyways....

“Anyway, is Jay talking to her mom this month or not? And do I ignore that to send or not send an invite?”

“Oh, gods fuckall.” Tate sat up with a groan. “They are very much _not_ talking this month, no I don’t know why though I think it had something to do with Illuminati and the extended family, and for some reason while Jim and Blair are absolutely most definitely on the invite list, cousin Carolyn is very, very much not.”

Silicon blinked. “Wait, her cousin – ”

“I don’t know!” Tate tossed his hands up in the air for a moment. “I stopped trying to track her family politics _years_ ago! Ask me about the European Union and I can tell you all sorts of mind-numbing trivia, but Jay Stiles’ family? Fucked if I know how things stand right now!” He shook his head. “Her mom and Cousin Carolyn are not invited. I think Demona’s out of the dog house this year, though.”

“Yeah. She was willing to share those details, and I got the date written in on Ms. Destine’s google calender. She’s bringing that doctor again.”

Tate gave him a look of blank horror. “One, Demona dating will never not be scary as all get out. Two, what the fuck is even 2016? Did you just listen to the words coming out of your mouth?”

“Yeah. Did you? You take a mouth like that into the kitchen and you’re getting a bar of soap for dinner, not actual food.”

It said a lot that Tate has to stop and think about it for a few seconds. He ruined the moment by facepalming and going, “dammit.”

Silicon gave him a minute, then headed into the next ball of fun. “Frank deliberately has his tour coming through to Foxwoods, so he’ll be home too.”

He was pretty sure that Tate was trying for humor when he looked up. “Is he still trying to open for Sanders rallies?”

Not at funny as Tate might hope. He scowled. “So help me if I hear another heavy metal scream that someone feels the burn, I’m finding a way to toss him on the helicopter with you next time you use it, then break the door to keep it closed. You’ll be locked in with Screamy McFeelTheBern.”

“Dude. All I have to do is start humming anything from Hamilton, and he and Alex are gonna be too busy singing the whole damn thing back to New York.” Oh _good_ , looked like that irked Tate just as much. “Now just imagine how bad it would be if we could _actually_ vote.”

Silicon shrugged. “I’m fine with protected species status, thanks.” 

Aw, shit. Wrong choice. Tate got that look, the adult scowl of genuine disgruntlement. “Talk to me when we get upgraded to _sentient_ protected species status,” he growled. “Dithering fuckers and their word weaseling from hell.”

Some nights, it just wasn’t worth trying to talk to Tate. It all spiraled in on politics and people being idiots and – just give him a few crooks to beat up, and Silicon was content. None of this world-wide impact and meddling. He was a rube with a computer fascination, and he was comfortable with that. Nicole could keep New York and Tate could keep his diplomatting and Jay could keep her...whatever it was that she did to keep Demona on a leash and not taking over the world. 

* * *

It wasn’t even an hour after sunset, Silicon had reached the point where he could see the bottom of his coffee cup with each sip, and Tate was doing that thing. For years now when bored or looking for company or whatever, he’d wander into Silicon’s room and just...chat. 

He still hadn’t had enough coffee yet for that. 

Tate peered over at the computer, bored and looking like he wanted to kill some time. “Whatcha doing?”

“Reading.”

“Computer documentation again?”

Silicon chugged the last of his drink, grinned, and leaned back in his chair. “Nah. This is about Iron Man and Captain America’s shapeshifting robot baby.”

Tate blinked and gave him a blank stare.

Silicon had to bite back a snicker, managing a grin that verged on innocent. “Look, I’m in a mood and there’s only so many times even I can read the one about Tony’s hivemind roombas.” When that only got more blankness, he shrugged and went for the kill. “Does it help if there’s a sentient toaster?”

Tate raised a hand, one finger lifted. “...y’know, I can never tell nowadays if this stuff actually exists, or if you’re trying to get a rise out of me.”

Silicon showed his teeth in a grin. “Which would you prefer?”

After a moment of consideration, Tate asked, “Do we have roombas?”

“Five.” Wouldn’t surprise him if Tate hadn’t noticed them. His brother blanched.

“Then for the love of all that’s holy tell me it’s just trying to get a rise out of me!”

Silicon shrugged. “I’m just trying to get a rise out of you,” he dutifully repeated, making no effort to sound sincere.

Tate tried to glare at him, but Silicon had a computer screen to pay attention to.

The silence stretched out further.

“So is the intern starting today?”

Silicon paused mid-keystroke, replaying the words. Nope, he’d heard that right. He squinted at his brother, not sure if this was some return sass or something. “Intern? Dude, we don’t have interns. Is this some Ishimura thing no one mentioned?”

“No, this is a Sandburg thing that I was pretty sure I mentioned. E-mail and everything?” When Silicon kept giving him the evil eye, Tate whipped out his phone and started poking at it. “Aw, hell,” he muttered at last, then apparently connected a call because he lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah, hi. Good time to talk?”

Silicon could overhear the other end: Tate calibrated his phone for his human side, which didn’t have near as good hearing as his gargoyle side – or for that matter, any of his clan. It sounded like there was some sort of gunfire or other rapid explosions on the other end.

“Good enough. What’s up?” Jay sounded faintly distracted, as the explosive noises died down a little.

“You remember the intern we’re supposed to get?”

“Please tell me they didn’t freak already. Blair promised me he’d send a crazy one so they should last more than two nights with the clan.”

Silicon snickered. Sandburg had tried two different times to help the clan out with the social propaganda angle. Neither college kid had lasted 48 hours before calling it quits, they’d flunk the extracurricular instead thanks. Never been called interns before, though.

“They’re not even here yet. Look, I’ve got a spare e-mail about the intern in my drafts mailbox, did you send a note on to Mector or Troy or someone?”

There was a pause, then a long, deep sigh. “Tate? Sweetie? Honey bunches of oats?”

Silicon winced. Ooooh, this was probably not good. There was more amusement than genuine crankiness to the tone, so it probably wasn’t serious, just someone not taking shit.

“Who signs my paychecks?”

Tate was wincing too. “Jay – ”

“Nnnope, that’d be highly unethical,” she chirped. “Try Ms. Destine!”

“I’d rather not, thanks.”

“Mmkay. Well, she signs my paychecks. You know why?”

Tate was blushing even as he ran a hand over his hair. “She couldn’t run anything without you?”

“She probably could, but there’d also probably be more bloodshed and wailing and gnashing of teeth.” That was _definitely_ true. “So since I work for Ms. Destine, whose e-mail do I handle?”

“Ms. Destine’s.”

“Whose calendar do I keep track of?”

“Ms. Destine’s.”

“Right! And who do I not schedule shit for?”

“Me?”

“Because?”

“I’m a grown ass adult who can take care of myself?”

“Damn right!”

Silicon couldn’t tell if she really was proud, or just continuing to snark.

When Tate finally pocketed his phone, Silicon raised a brow. “So, intern tonight?”

Tate made a face. “Tomorrow. One day, I will stop being confused about calendars and when things are scheduled, but that day is not today. Or tonight.” He started hustling to the door, probably to drop the good news on the Leader.

“Tomorrow’s not looking too hot either, is it,” Silicon called after him, getting a rude gesture in reply.

* * *

“Sooo,” Hallie drawled.

“Yup,” Silicon grunted in response, shifting a little to make sure his cane was still strapped solidly in place between his wings. He’d only had a few accidents over the years about it _not_ being secured, but that was all it took. 

“Here we are.”

“Yup.”

There was a beat, as Silicon angled left to swoop over the seaport.

“This is awkward.”

He smirked at the human in his arms. “You signed up to be a gargoyle clan’s intern, and never stopped to think how awkward it would be to get carried bridal style?”

“Oh, _god_ ,” she squealed, making a disgusted face. “Did you _have_ to call it that?”

He rolled his eyes. “ What do you prefer? Princess style? Damsel now out of distress? Fancy fainting pose?” 

He liked her. Hallie had shown up a few nights before looking wide-eyed and awed, coming across as quiet and what some might call meek. Silicon hadn’t thought that it was a cover, but he and everyone else had been a little blindsided when the awe wore off.

Well. Maybe not ‘wore off’ so much as ‘got overtaken by the fact that yes these are people just like other people and can be annoying as hell.’ But hopefully with charm.

“Dude, soon as we’re on the ground, I will kick your ass,” she grumbled, trying to cross her arms and totally failing to manage that and retain the death grip on his vest.

Silicon snickered. “Only if I’m committing a crime!” She thumped him on the arm, but he wasn’t paying attention. The joke had sparked a thought, and he wasn’t sure just how very much trouble he was in. “...uh. Shit. Do you, uh, have the thing...?”

Hallie raised a brow. “I have my night watch certification, yes,” she said, dry as he’d ever heard.

“Whew!” Didn’t matter, he was just relieved that she knew what she was doing while he – “...Waaait, are they officially calling it that now?”

She snickered. “No, they’re still MPPs, but everyone calls them night watch certs.”

Marshall Patrol Permits were the grudging compromise between ‘gargoyle cultural needs’ and the fact that a lot of law enforcement types thought vigilantism was a bad idea. Anyone going out on patrol had to have one, and any humans working with them but without a MPP was risking a large fine and maybe jail time.

There were still potential lawsuit problems for everyone, which even after all this time broke Silicon’s brain.

Hallie seemed pretty well versed in all that minutia, and she was happy to enlighten him. It was cute. She looked like a bit of a preppy airhead, a slim college-age Latina with a resting innocent-as-hell face. However, he’d heard her stub her foot lugging suitcases into the guestroom, and that was not the language he’d expected from someone that wide-eyed.

Ok, so he’d only known like a few words before she dropped into other languages, but they’d all had the same tone and the words he _had_ known were _filthy_.

They were further into New London territory when they heard someone yelling. It didn’t have the right tone for an argument, something about it was too shrill. He banked hard, swinging around near a park that was near both what passed for the party side of town, and one of the trouble spots they’d been keeping an eye on. It was late enough that he could make out laughter, loud and mocking and setting his instincts on edge.

Trouble.

“Oh _wow_ they do light up!”

“What? Oh. The eyes.” He shook his head as they passed over the park proper. There was a small cluster of people along one of the paths, and it had the look of trouble. “Setting you down,” he growled, deciding it was better to get involved. He swooped down, moving to skim the lowest flat rooftop near the park that he could find. He swung Hallie down, holding her by the arms until she whooped and squirmed free. He took the extra moment to make sure she hit the roof in a neat tuck and roll, then he was fanning his wings wider, catching all of the breeze that he could get. He caught an updraft, tilting his wings so that he spiraled in a neat curve before he tucked in close, diving down with eyes blazing.

Five dudes of various sizes, at least one with a visible gun stuck in the back of his pants, blocking in two chicks – maybe high school, maybe college. Potential mugging, potentially worse. The chicks were hemmed in, and no one was looking up.

There it was, confirmation. Lead-Dudebro, who wasn’t dude-what-was-armed, snagged the lead chick by the wrist. She did _not_ like that, and Lead-Dudebro pulled a gun.

Silicon body-checked the first armed thug, gravity and two-hundred-mumble pounds sending jackass flying away. Silicon reached down, grabbing turf and contorting. The way he needed to flail his tail to keep corkscrewing the right way meant it was in the right area to swat Lead-Dudebro in the arm if he just _twisted_ far enough.

There was a very satisfying _crack_ followed by a screech of Lead-Dudebro going down to his knees. Excellent.

“And I just need enough of you to dull the pain,” Silicon sang with his toothiest grin, getting his feet settled properly underneath him, “just to get me through the night 'til we're twins again.” One of the chicks had already turned to run.

“'Till we're stripped down to our skeletons again,” he half chanted, ducking under the first wild punch generic-dude-with-a-tude threw. He spun, clotheslining small-and-angry-looking-jerk who was pulling back to get space to use the nasty little knife he dropped right before he hit the ground next to it. “'Till we're saints just swimming in our sins again.” Quick mule kick, and Lead-Dudebro was KO’ed before he could usefully fumble his gun around with his offhand. Was kind enough to fall half on his gun, too, so that was probably out of the fight for the moment.

“And there's a jet black crow droning on and on and on!” Each ‘on’ had him spinning, dodging surprisingly coordinated punches from the two left standing. “Up above our heads droning on and on and on!” This time he was punching instead of dodging, though he had to fight the urge to flare his hands wide and swipe with talons instead of just lovetaps that wouldn’t leave too much internal damage.

“Keep making trouble 'till you find what you love, I need a new partner in crime and you shrug!” The hell with this, and moreover hell with lawsuits. Tail around bigger-and-trouble’s wrist, _yank_ while ducking left so that smaller-and-trouble popped his friend a neat rabbit punch to the face. While both were yowling, Silicon grabbed then both by the scruff and tried them out as cymbals.

One meaty _thunk_ later, and they both went down. Silicon straightened, humming idly under his breath about a hotel room in New York City while he dusted off his hands. Troublemakers one and two: down. Chicks: nowhere to be found. Lead-Dudebro was still KO’d, gun under his splayed arm still with the safety on. First casualty was groaning off to the side, trying and failing to pull himself upright on the broken park bench that had stopped his flight. Which left – uh oh.

 _Shit_. Silicon dropped like his legs had stopped working. He was almost too slow as it was. He could feel the air displacement as the missing thug tried to get his knife into Silicon’s back, but the dodge meant he was way off target. Coming in at the wrong angle, it scraped against his cane, skidding along the reinforced wood and catching on his vest and shirt. There was a nasty _ripping_ noise, the feel of his cane flying away, and then Silicon swatted asshole-with-the-knife away with his tail. 

“Ow,” he managed to groan. Last time he’d felt like this, it had involved an ‘assisted’ belly flop into the creek’s swimming hole, and that experience hadn’t included his bum foot which he’d smacked against something hard on the way down. Probably the ground. That was dumb. 

* * *

Silicon didn’t care that it was no big deal if he was topless; he felt way more than half naked walking back into the house. Hallie had been nice enough to carry his cane, shirt, and vest for him, tactfully gushing about the fight instead of how he looked. It might’ve helped if he could care about the singing thing (it...was just what they _did_ , it wasn’t all super special or anything) and while he was pleased about an efficient takedown, the whole shredded shirt thing was embarrassing.

He hesitated a moment after checking in with Troy – bastard was smirking a little, and sometimes Silicon had to wonder about the looks Megan’s mate gave him – gave everyone. Was it a Roman thing, or a Troy thing? He might be from a whole different century (millennium), but he sure fit in well enough that he enjoyed messing with people’s minds.

Silicon shook that off, trudging to Arin’s room. He couldn’t tell if Hallie was still tagging along in his wake or just heading in the same direction, but whatever. He stuck his head into the cluttered room that had an array of projects scattered around– astronomical and craft goods mingled with Liam’s mess of sharp and disturbing objects.

“Hey Arin? I could use some help.”

“Mm?” She turned away from the telescope she kept sticking out the window. “Ah. I’ll say. Now’s a good time, get in here.”

Urgh. Not how he wanted to spend more of his evening. “Well, it’s not the best time for me –” Arin stopped pawing through a set of drawers to give him a _look._ “– Ok, so let’s get this over with.” Silicon trudged inside Arin’s room, slumping down backwards in an old computer chair. The small back-piece folded back so he could slouch over with that bit as an arm and chin rest, and he watched Arin pull out several different color t-shirts, all of them with the seam on the side and slits in the back.

“Green again?”

“Sure.”

She ended up with a darker green shirt than he was used to, tossing it over while she went digging for sewing tools. He pulled the front on, letting the other half dangle down while he went back to sprawling forward.

He was trying really, really hard to ignore how Hallie was watching the whole thing. Watching, with her cell phone in hand, and it didn’t look like she had Avengers Academy running. It was a relief when Arin came back over, muttering under her breath as she worked her no-it’s-totally-not-magic-stop-being-silly on his new shirt.

He really didn’t know what to do with an audience. After one too many times of catching him looking back, Hallie shrugged. “I’m watching a very important cultural interaction.” How she made it not sound weird, he had no idea. Maybe just the utter lack of shame?

“Could you, I dunno, watch from somewhere else? Also, watching does not mean _taking notes_. Ow!” He pulled back a little to glare at Arin, who just gave him another flat look right back.

“I told you before, stop squirming.”

“She’s _taking notes_.”

“And you’re whining. If you keep whining, then you can go do this yourself.”

Silicon stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Dammit, Hallie was taking notes on _that_.

She was probably trying to take mercy on him when she asked, “So why was that a potent threat?”

Arin didn’t look up from the sewing magic she was working. “I’m the best at this. I also do it right the first time. So long as someone stops squirming.”

He wasn’t squirming, he was _pouting_. “And if you do it yourself then it’s never right.”

“So why bother at all?”

Silicon rolled his eyes. “How would _you_ put a shirt on over wings?”

“Halter top,” she said right off the bat.

His wings flared a little, but he kept the bristle to a minimum. “I am _not_ wearing a halter top!”

Oh, god, she leaned back and eyed him. “I dunno, man, nice muscle shirt? You would make that look awesome.”

He flushed purple, not knowing what to do with that. It was a surprise that Arin saved him with a firm head shake. “Those rip way too easily. Sure, you could put it on and off easier, but why bother?”

“Huuuh. Now there’s a – thanks, I need to scribble some things down.” Hallie ambled off, giving the walls a funny look as if she might be reading something off of them. Silicon gave her a five count, then glanced over at Arin.

“Thanks.”

The older gargoyle blinked at him. “You’re welcome. Now stop squirming, and the pouting still won’t make this go faster.”

“I’m not pouting!”

* * *

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“I can get Nicole in here, and even _she_ would say you’re sulking, and you know she’s the expert at that.” At Silicon’s rude gesture to the computer screen and Lexington’s special Skype alternative, Lex signed and leaned back. “Seriously, you need to blow off some steam. When’s the last time you WoWed?”

He growled, not bothering to hide the white flash to his eyes. “They fucked this expansion up even more than the last one.” Lex gave him the disbelieving Spock brow, and Silicon sighed. “Ok, fine, questing got streamlined, but demon hunters jumped the shark, speared it with their ridiculous bat’leth ripoffs before searing it to a fine char with their eyes, and then screwed up every game balance ever.”

Lex was staring. He did not look impressed. “So you’ve been losing PvP lately, huh?”

“ _No_ , thank you.” That wasn’t true, but Lex didn’t need to know that. Not to mention it wasn’t the point anyways! “It’s the animation. They double-jump, sprout wings, and _glide_. You’ve _seen_ this!”

Lex rolled his eyes. “As rarely as possible. _Overwatch_ , you philistine. Besides, I would’ve thought you’d like the chance to exercise your glide instincts in game.”

“That’s the _problem!_ They’re doing it all wrong! And the animation is fuckin’ stupid, no one _glides_ like that! It’s a cheap – ”

His tirade got cut short by a _splosh_ noise from the kitchen, followed by a shriek from Megan. “ _How many times do I have to threaten to turn you into an ugly frog before you stop doing that???_ ”

Hallie ducked out of the kitchen area, the door swinging closed behind her on the sounds of Megan tossing a fit. Silicon took in the purple splotches on her shirt, the wild-eyed expression, and he sighed. “Steve’s trying to do the ‘is Meg beet colored or are beets Meg colored’ experiment again?”

Hallie gaped at him. “Is...is it _always_ ‘again’ around here?”

He shrugged. “Not really. He mostly just does it to impress new people.” At the human’s look, he rolled his eyes. “Ok, fine, by ‘impress’ I mean ‘entertain.’ He’s still working on the ‘successful’ part.”

“No kidding.” She walked into the small room Silicon had claimed for his machinery, only to skid to a halt and stare at his screen with an expression that he could only call ‘awed.’ “Holy shit. Lexington, right?”

Silicon snickered, and Lex made a face at him. “Yeah, hi. And you be quiet. Silicon.”

Hallie’s expression only got more awed. “Oh wow. Wow. I just – you have no idea how big a – I’m sorry, that’s probably really rude, I just – ”

The snickering turned into full-fledged laughter. “You owe me five bucks first!” He wasn’t jealous of Lex’s celebrity status, especially not how the New York clan ended up in the middle of absolutely everything. Besides, Lex got awkward about it, which was fun, and they had a standing bet going on over his fame.

Lex made another face, but snagged a cell phone and started tapping away on it. A quick moment later, Silicon’s pocket chimed.

“Thaaaank you.”

“Whatever,” Lex mock grumbled before grinning at Hallie. “Hi! You’re the new intern?”

“No, I’m the grad student working on her thesis and getting to study gargoyle cultural phenomenon in the process.” That grin was showing an impressive amount of teeth for a human.

Silicon grimaced. “Sorry. I should’ve mentioned she didn’t like that, shouldn’t I.”

“Might have been helpful, yeah,” Lex grumbled.

There was an awkward pause before Hallie took pity on them, changing the subject hard. “So, did I hear someone speaking Klingon in here?”

Lex pointed at Silicon. “If you actually _can_ speak – ”

“Hell no!” he yelped. “How much spare time do you think I have on my hands?”

Hallie retorted something that sounded like a dig, but given the hairball she sounded like she was hacking up, it was probably in Klingon.

That was the problem with the internet. He might have seen some YouTube things, but real life was somehow weirder. “Wow. I’m a Trekkie, and that – I never – _why_?”

“I like languages, and I got bored easily in high school.” She nodded towards the number of action figures he had scattered around his monitors and keyboard. “I would’ve thought from your stormtrooper collection that you were more a Star Was fan.”

Lexington cackled, the traitor. Silicon tried not to pout or glare. “ _Clone_ troopers, thankyouverymuch.”

“Ah.” She nodded, looking like she had no idea about the difference. “My bad. No idea how you’d tell the difference.”

Lex was starting to wheeze, he was laughing so hard. Silicon was ignoring him, for the sake of everyone’s tattered dignity.

“Practice.”

“Mm.” Hallie leaned in close to look at one of them. “Was this one finger painting before, I duuno, blowing up planets or whatever clonetroopers do? Missing the broad side of a barn?”

“Hey, do not mock Echo!” he yelped, while the guffawing Lex slipped off his chair and thus offscreen. Hallie ignored him and his laughter, giving Silicon a look instead.

“You call it Echo?” She sounded pretty dubious.

“No, the _character_ is called Echo.” He knew it was half game, poking fun at franchises – she didn’t have the sharp tone of someone actually bashing so much as the lopsided grin of someone who liked matching wits.

“Hate to break it to you, bud, but if that’s a clone, then they all look alike.”

He pointed to the doorway. “Heathen. Take your stormtrooper jokes elsewhere before I start cracking wise about red shirts.”

Hallie laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever. Lemme guess, you’re one of those old school guys who think puppet Yoda is better than CGI Yoda, too, aren’t you.”

That finally got him to pause. He could see her hesitation, could guess that she was wondering if she’d somehow crossed a line.

That, or she was really, _really_ good at playing him. “...I saw that episode of Leverage, you’re not going to get a rise out of me.”

Her look was too legitimately blank. “Leverage?”

Silicon ignored Lex’s quiet mutter of “Uh oh,” as the New York gargoyle hauled himself back into the chair.

“Are you serious?” he asked, suspicious and not quite willing to believe she didn’t know.

“Well, I’m guessing it’s a TV show. Look, I’m a _grad_ student, ok? I don’t _have_ spare time!”

“Important gargoyle cultural phenomenon, coming right up.” Silicon leaned around her to holler towards the kitchen. “ _HEY STEVE!_ ”

“HEY WHAT?”

“Leverage marathon!”

“ _WHOOO! OT3 time!_ I’ll grab the popcorn, you warm up the big screen!”

“OTP and platonic lifepartner, and if you put spicy shit on the popcorn again I’m daring you to eat the entire bucket at once!”

Mector’s growl reverberated from the upstairs sitting room. “ _STOP YELLING_!”

Hallie was trying to hide giggles behind her hands. “Why just dare him?” she asked, trying to be quiet and not managing too well.

Silicon grinned, showing his fangs. “Then _he’ll_ be the idiot deciding to eat it, and all for the low low price of a dollah.”

“And you complain about my bad habits,” Lex snickered, and Silicon grinned at him.

“Wanna stick around for the marathon?”

“Nah, tell me how it goes later. Nicole’s got a patrol and I thought I might go along with her.”

Silicon waved. “Give her a shoulder punch for me.” He logged and smirked at Hallie. “Ready for what passes as culture around here?”

“If anyone shows me anything from the back of the fridge again – ”

He laughed, grabbing his cane and starting towards the stairs. “Nah, this is _quality_.”

“You make it sound like nothing else around here is quality,” she quipped, and he blinked.

“Weelll....”

Hallie rolled her eyes with a giggle. “Learn to take a compliment. C’mon, show me how gargoyles have a good time.”

Steve hauled tail past them with a cackle, the smell of fresh popcorn and butter – and _way_ too much of something spicy – wafted in his wake. “Don’t let his mate hear that!”

Silicon growled at him, only to stop and pull back as Hallie shook her head.

“Oh hell no,” she muttered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. “He doesn’t seem to get that me and Kyla have an understanding.”

“Wait, what? What kind of understanding?”

Hallie flashed him that too-innocent looking grin, then handed him a dollar bill. “Not important. Wanna see how far he gets before he has to cry uncle?” 

He hesitated, because there were answers he kinda wanted.

His nostrils still burned just from the one hit of popcorn. “Have I mentioned I like you?” he asked, taking the money. “I think we’re gonna keep you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The fic Silicon was reading IS real. [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/series/18869) is [scifigrl47's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/pseuds/scifigrl47) impeccable fic with the sentient roombas, and [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/series/18990) is the fic with "Iron Man and Captain America’s shapeshifting robot baby." Referenced without permission, but the utmost respect.


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